


maybe next time they'll be no time

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Souls, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 02:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14227194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: Auston knows better than to leave anything up to luck, and yet here he is, fifteen minutes to midnight, without a plan.





	maybe next time they'll be no time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Signe_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Let's start the new year right](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13206054) by [Signe_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan). 



> This fic is dedicated to my cat, who has always believed in me, and the early modern literature class I have been required to endure, which has inspired me to think more closely about the immaterial nature of the soul.

**11:44**

Sixteen minutes until the New Year, and Auston’s s.o.l. He should have known better. He does know better, knows he shouldn’t be making any bets that depend more on chance than skill. Never make it about luck when you don’t have to — he had that drilled into his head since he was a child, and he thought it stuck, but Mitch has some sort of fucked up vortex, which makes him fuck-up too, or at least that’s an excuse. He shouldn't make bets. He should know better. Never leave it up to luck.

Luck’s what landed him here with Mitch, instead sticking in the dessert closer to home, instead of a different frozen wasteland, with it’s own problems — more snow, less city, no Mitch. Or a dozen other futures, and he wound up with this one, all because of fucking-up luck.

 

**11:45**

He just needs to be charming. He’s good at being charming, theoretically. He’s good at posing, at smiling, at letting people get close, but not too close. He shouldn’t have left this too last minute — another thing he learned, and then forgot. Don’t make bets, don’t leave it up to luck, don’t wait until the last fifteen minutes before the end of the known world. 

 

**11:46**

Okay, so not actually the end of the known world. The end of _Auston’s_ known world, which is considerably smaller, but very dear to him. His known world has order, and fashion, and he doesn’t want to watch it all disappear because of a lapse of a drunken lapse of judgement a year ago, leading to a bet, leading to leaving too much to luck, leading to a lack of proper preparation, because thinking about the bet made him a little bit nauseous, and he didn’t have time to walk around feeling vaguely ill, worrying about next year. Only next year comes in fourteen minutes now, so whatever plan he comes up with will have to be igneous, and will have to happen quick, if he wants to keep his known world intact. 

 

**11:47**

So. Just what are the stakes? What exactly did he put on the line here?

Oh, just his immortal soul. No big deal. Just everything that he is, was, will be, could be, in this world and the next. 

All that, riding on whether or not he can make anyone stand between him and his bad bets when midnight comes around. 

Thirteen minutes left now. Thirteen is a powerful number. Can be good, can be bad, all depending on how you approach matters. Auston’s going to take thirteen as a good sign. Thirteen minutes til midnight, and he can still charm someone, he can still find his way out of this, he can still win. 

 

**11:48**

He staked his soul on the belief that he’ll be able to find someone who wants _him_ , in all of his humanity, more than Marner wants to have his soul to do dark deeds with.

Which really, isn’t that hard. Auston’s a pretty cool human being, he’s got friends, he’s got family, plenty of people who love him. Considering all that, it should be easy. Too easy — see, the thing is, there are _conditions_. It has to be someone new, who he didn’t know when they made the bet, on a tired January first 364 days ago. He doesn’t just need someone love him that much, he needs someone who will seal it with a kiss, at midnight, on New Years Eve. Which is a lot harder. 

_Never_ forget to make sure you understand all of the conditions before you make a bet with a dark creature. (Never make bets with dark creatures. Never make bets. Never leave it up to luck when you don’t have to.) 

 

**11:49**

While at this point, with eleven minutes left, he’s mostly worried about not losing the bet, not losing _his soul_ , there is a bit more too it. Because if he doesn’t lose, not only does he get to keep his soul, he also _wins the bet._ He hasn’t thought much about what winning would mean, mostly because he’s been overwhelmed by the fear of losing and damnation. But winning sure would be fun.

His prize is a little less coherent than his own soul. His prize arguably doesn’t even exist, at least not any more, not in a long long time. If he wins, he gets Marner’s conscience.

Or no, not actually, because Marner’s conscience died a long time ago, and that wouldn’t be any kind of prize, a dead, aetherial thing, flitting around his mind, 

If he wins, he gets to _be_ Marner’s conscience, for at least a whole year, until midnight of the next New Years eve. Maybe longer, if he does it right, because after a year with a conscience Marner should be able to see it’s better to have a conscience, better to have a soul, better to work together for harmony and control. 

Auston knew he was making a risky bet, but Auston made it anyway because it’s a hell of a prize.

 

**11:50**

If Mitch just had a conscience, then Auston’s whole life would be so east. Primarily: no bet, no worries. But more than that. If Mitch had a conscience, then they could run this city. Mitch has got power, Auston’s got power. The two of them together, they could be unstoppable. Instead of fighting sometimes, instead getting in each other’s way constantly, they could work together. Auston thinks he’d like that. He thinks he’d like Mitch a whole lot if Mitch was only as evil as Auston himself can stand.

 

**11:51**

Auston is not worried about keeping his soul because he’s some paragon of virtue. He’s worried because it’s _his soul._ It’s a part of him, an _important_ part of him, as immaterial as it may be. He isn’t just going to give it to Mitch because of some imbecilic bet. His soul is worth a lot more than that.

If, someday, he’s going to part with his soul, he’s going to lose it one of the usual ways. Sell it a crossroads, in exchange for a valuable ability. Or he’s going to obliterate it himself, the side effect of an act of violence that he chooses to commit. 

If he’s going to go and lose his soul, he damn-well better get something out of it.

 

**11:52**

And it isn’t that he wants Marner to have his conscience out of some sort of _concern_ or _morality._ He isn’t interested in what good Marner having a conscience will do for the greater Toronto area, though he imagines it will do the GTA a great deal of good. He’s got entirely selfish motives.

Marner will cause so much less chaos if his consciousness is in line with Auston’s own. Or at least he’ll feel bad about whatever chaos he causes, for a while at least. 

 

**11:53**

Shit. Eight minutes. He should just find a cute girl, buy her a drink, put on his best smile. He can be very charming. It doesn’t have to be so hard. Sex is close enough to love, right?

Not really, not at all. But like, close enough? It looks a lot alike anyway. You don’t even really have to squint. Sex is like love, just in an instant, at least when it’s good. He just needs to find a girl to kiss at midnight, and everything will be fine.

 

**11:54**

Oh god, he’s so fucked. He’s going to lose his soul because of a bad bet with Mitch fucking Marner.

He’s smarter than this. He knows better than this. He knows, don’t leave it up to luck, don’t leave it to the last minute, don’t get in over your head if you aren’t prepared to drown. He’s so royally fucked, and not even in a fun way.

 

**11:55**  
Five minutes until midnight and the reckoning sounds like the perfect time to find a loophole. Because lord knows there has _got_ to be a loophole. Auston and Marner agreed to the terms of this bet while heavily hungover, and even together, they aren’t smart enough to come up with a bet that can’t be wiggled out of somehow. 

Auston’s sure it’s there.

 

**11:56**

Mitch finds him on the dance floor, looking like Mitch. Kinda cute, kinda sleazy, kinda smug. Auston stares just over his head instead of making eye contact, trying his best to project confident and self-assured. He can be very charming. He needs to look like the kind of man who isn’t going to lose his soul in an unwise bet in four minutes.

He doesn’t know _how_ just yet, but he’s going to be that man, or at least look like that who he is, until it’s too late. And once it is too late, Mitch will strip him of his sense of self, and then he won’t even care about it too much. That’s the scary part really — once he loses his soul, he won’t even care that it’s gone. 

 

**11:57**

Then it hits him: Mitch is the one who’s judging what qualifies as “love.” And shit, Auston doesn’t really know what love is, Mitch sure as shit doesn’t know. It doesn’t actually have to be _love_ , just close enough to convince Mitch. This just got a hell of a lot more easy.

He can’t just kiss some girl — it’s too late for that, with three minutes left. There has to be some sort of connection, some sort of attachment. It can’t just be an empty kiss, but still! That’s so much easier to fake than love. He can totally do this. Probably.

It’s given him a really, _really,_ really, horrible idea, that he isn’t quite desperate enough to put into action, but give it another couple minutes, and if he doesn’t have a better idea, than sure. 

 

**11:58**

“You’re going to be mine.”

Auston can’t stand the pure glee in Mitch’s voice.

 

**11:59**

This is a bad plan, but Auston’s desperate. The room’s too loud, too warm with the crush of bodies, Mitch is standing much too close to him, almost shouting in his ear. Auston’s not paying attention to what Mitch is saying, which really, why would he? Less than a minute now.

It’s a bad plan.

Mitch is grinning at him, so brightly, absolutely thrilled at the idea that he’s going to own Auston’s soul, which is not an acceptable outcome.

The crowd around them is starting to countdown to midnight.

TEN

NINE

EIGHT

Fuck it.

SEVEN

SIX

FIVE

Auston’s not going to come up with a better plan.

FOUR

Better just go for it.

THREE

He shoves his mouth against Mitch’s.

TWO

It takes a moment, less than a second, before Mitch catches up and kisses back.

ONE

 

**MIDNIGHT**

It’s a good kiss. If this is the end of everything, at least it’s a good kiss.

 

**12:01**

Mitch’s mouth tasted like fire and cheap alcohol, but Auston liked it, _likes it_. He doesn’t know if he won or lost. He doesn’t know what year it is. He doesn’t know what happens next, except that he does: synchronicity.

They’re on the same page now, one soul, one conscience, no more bets, no more luck, no more winners or losers. Just the two of them, minute after minute, until time runs out.


End file.
